


Songs from Our Childhood

by lemonpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Childhood, Dean is sad, Drabble Collection, Family Feels, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, bobby is best dad, most of these are under 1000 words, sam is less sad, theyre super short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonpie/pseuds/lemonpie
Summary: Scenes from the childhood of the Winchesters. Dean is a good big brother, Sam is doing his best, and John is a piece of shit. Bobby helps.





	1. March 22nd, 1992

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a drabble collection to get my feelings about the winchester bros out. comments and kudos are welcome.

(March 22nd, 1992)

“Today, class, we’re going to be making mother’s day cards! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Sam Winchester frowned down at his desk, drumming his finger nervously on his thigh. Last year, the teacher had gotten very upset at him when he’d told her he didn’t have a mommy, and the year before the teacher had told him to wait outside so she could talk to him and then forgotten. This year, Sam kind of wanted to just make a card for his mommy anyway, but that felt bad. He knew Dean cried about their mom sometimes and making a card for her when he didn’t even know her didn’t seem fair.

Other kids had already gotten up and grabbed pieces of card and markers, but Sam didn’t.

"Sam? Is everything okay?” Sam liked Mrs Milton a lot more than his other teachers. He’d only joined the school a month ago and when he’d gotten lost it had been her that had shown him where to go. He nervously brushed his hair away from his face.

“I, um… I don’t have a mom.” He said, after a long moment, and Mrs Milton’s face crumpled in sympathy. “She died when I was a baby, there was a house fire.”

Mrs Milton put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sam. Why don’t you make a card for someone else? Like your Dad?”

Sam thought about his dad, about the smell of guns and beer, about Dean’s pale face marked with bruises. He thought about his big brother, the one that heated up his spaghettios even when it was late, the one who still kept all the drawings he’d done as a little kid in a box that he kept hidden away from their dad, and Sam knew what he wanted to do.

He got some card and a bright green marker because he was pretty sure that was Dean’s favorite color, and got to work.

\--

_To Dean_

_Your the best big brother ever and your my superhero. I love you lots even when you yell sometimes but I know its just becase your trying to keep me safe and i really apresheate you. i love you Dean._

_Sammy_

_\--_

(Dean, age twelve, cried a little bit when he read the card and tucked it away in that box. He took it back out aged twenty-five when Sam left for college and cried all over again.)


	2. November 14th, 1988

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam loves books. Dean loves them too. Bobby is tired of John affecting these boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h

(November 14th, 1988)

There was never any goodbye when John (Dad, Dean corrected himself) left them at Bobby’s.

Sammy loved it at Uncle Bobby’s house. There was so much for him to read, so Dean tried to stay happy for his little brother.

At least he’d be free of John’s ( _Dad’s)_ training exercises, he thought, rubbing his side.

“Bean! Bean!”  

Dean reacted instinctively, turning to catch Sam as he threw himself at him. Sammy only called him Bean when he was super excited, so Dean spun him around in his arms just to hear him laugh and then set him back down on the floor.

“Look! Uncle Bobby has the next Narnia book!” Sam told him, holding up the book for him to see. “Can we read it? Please?”

It was _The Horse and His Boy,_ and Dean found he was just as excited as Sam. “Yeah, we can read it, Sammy.”

Sam cheered as he ran off, presumably to find a different book to read until bedtime, and Dean smiled and watched him go, feeling some weight lift from his shoulders. Sam was happy, Sam was _safe._

Of course, Dean couldn’t know that he was being watched. Bobby Singer sighed quietly and adjusted his hat. That boy had far too much responsibility, and he hadn’t complained once.

At that moment, Bobby vowed to take as much of that weight as he could.

“Hey, Dean. C’mere for a minute, would you? I need a hand fixing up this car.”

Those words would forever be ingrained in Dean’s mind, because they marked the day he spent four and a half hours with his Uncle Bobby, learning and fixing and having fun. He ended up sweaty and covered in grease and it was the happiest he’d ever been.

“Little greasemonkey.” Bobby commented as he wiped his face on his shirt, and then there was a large, warm hand ruffling his hair and Dean felt safe.

That night as he tucked Sammy in, Dean wondered what it would be like if he had someone to take care of _him._

\--

_This is the story of an adventure that happened in Narnia and Calormen and the lands between, in the Golden Age when Peter was High King in Narnia and his brother and his two sisters were King and Queens under him._

_In those days, far south in Calormen on a little creek of the sea, there lived a poor fisherman called Arsheesh, and with him there lived a boy who called him Father._

\--

(Many, many years later, Sam would go poking around in Bobby’s house one final time, and he’d find a beaten up, worn copy of The Horse and His Boy, and he’d flip through the pages and smile softly as he remembered his brother’s voice reading those words to him.)


	3. June 27th, 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby takes the boys to the pier. It's Dean's first ice cream. Difficult questions are asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fixed a mild formatting error, so hopefully this reads a little better. comment if you liked it please

(June 27th, 1989)

 

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Sam shouted as he bolted into the crowd, and Dean felt an instinctive, protective spike of worry. Beside him, Bobby chuckled, and that helped Dean to calm down. Bobby was the best hunter Dad knew, and if he wasn’t worried about Sam, then Dean wouldn’t be either.

They caught up to him a few moments later, to see him standing on his tiptoes and clinging to the edge of the counter of an ice cream truck, chanting “Ice cream! Ice cream!”. Dean sighed quietly, prepared to disappoint Sammy, yet again, but Bobby pulled out his wallet.

“Strawberry!” Demanded Sam, patting on the counter. He then added, “Please, mister.” as an afterthought. 

“Dean? What flavor do you want?” Bobby questioned as the laughing ice cream man turned to get Sam’s strawberry ice cream. Dean stood for a second, taken aback, and then blurted “Chocolate.” before Bobby could change his mind. 

“Chocolate it is.” 

That ice cream might have possibly been the best Dean had ever had. Hell, that  _ day _ was the best he’d ever had. Bobby had taken them to a pier for the day instead of training them like Dad had told him to, because he said “You two boys need to have something normal in your lives.” He and Sam had gone on all the rides Sam was allowed on, and a few he wasn’t, and hearing little Sammy shriek with uninhibited laughter as they got swung around and around made Dean happy too.

They’d even been allowed to get candy floss when Sam had spotted it, and Dean had won him a stuffed moose on one of the shooting games. By the time the sun was going down, both boys were exhausted, but it was a happy exhaustion. Both protested leaving, and Sam demanded one last go on the merry-go-round, but he’d practically fallen asleep halfway around, so Bobby had put them both back in the car and driven them home.

\--

  
“Bobby?” Dean mumbled sleepily, wrapped around a quietly snoring Sam.    
  
“Yeah, Dean?”

There was a long moment of hesitation, and then, quiet, childish, “Can you be our dad?”

Bobby Singer prided himself on being a tough nut, he hadn’t cried since he was a kid, but that little voice, so self-deprecating, so tiny, made his eyes burn and his throat close up. 

“I’m sorry, kid. I can’t. I’d like to, and I love you boys like you’re my own, but I can’t.”

Dean sniffed, and then said “Okay.” and in the rear-view, Bobby watched as he pulled Sam closer into his side and closed his eyes again. 

\--

(Decades later, Bobby would call them “my sons” and he wouldn’t even think about it at the time, and those words would mean the world to Dean, who, although no longer a ten year old, still craved love like a junkie. Bobby was more than happy to provide.)


	4. October 19th, 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to Sam's school for an update and pushes John too far again. Sam muses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for physical abuse

(October 19th, 1998)

 

“I’ll need to talk to Sam’s parent or carer?” Said the teacher in front of him awkwardly. After all, nineteen year old Dean didn’t  _ look _ much like a carer. He was splayed out over the chair he’d flopped in, and he was wearing a leather jacket and too much of their dad’s aftershave. 

“That’s me.” He confirmed, and Sam rubbed his palms on his knees nervously. He’d been hesitant, giving Dean the invitation, unsure if Dean would even want to turn up or not, but here he was. 

Honestly, Sam was starting to regret even inviting him.

This was the first time Sam had been at a school for more than a month since he was nine, and he liked it a lot. He wasn’t doing badly at school, he was actually pretty bright, but he got distracted a lot. 

The teacher outlined all of that, and Dean nodded away like he was actually taking in and understanding, which maybe he was.

"All in all, Sam is a pleasure to teach and a wonderful, bright young man.” The teacher finished, and Dean turned to Sam and smiled at him, which was rare nowadays.

  
“Hear that, Sammy? You’re a pleasure to teach.” Dean teased and reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Dean! It’s Sam, not Sammy! And don’t touch my hair!” Sam complained, though it was half-hearted. The teacher was smiling at them, amused, and Dean shot her a playful wink.

On the way out, Dean patted Sam on the shoulder and said, “I’m real proud of you, Sammy, you know that?” 

Sam did know. Dean said it all the time. He smiled up at the bruised face of his older brother and wondered if anyone had ever told Dean they were proud of him.

\--

“Said he’s a pleasure to teach and wonderful and bright young man.” Parroted Dean later, to their Dad. “Wonder where he gets that from. Definitely ain’t from you.” 

“Dean.” John warned, but Dean just kept pushing.    
  
“He’s getting straight As, our Sammy. All As, all across the board. But you wouldn’t  _ know  _ that because you don’t even know what school he goes to now. Do you?”

The hit echoed in Sam’s ears, and he watched Dean stumble backwards. 

“Watch your tone with me, boy.” Snarled John, and Dean swallowed.

  
“Yes, sir.” 

\--

(When Sam was nineteen he left for Stanford college, and he couldn’t help but compare the argument he’d had with his dad to the one his dad had had with Dean all those years ago. For one, John never hit him. For two, Dean tried to invervine. Sam would lay awake for hours wondering what went wrong.)


End file.
